


Adopting Barry Allen

by FayeWildwood



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Frame Job, Hypoglycemia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, Low Latent Inhibition, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Past Abuse, Post-Oculus (DC's Legends of Tomorrow), adopting Barry allen, maybe polyamory later?, meta-Leonard Snart, post s3- flash, prison- iron heights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:09:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayeWildwood/pseuds/FayeWildwood
Summary: Barry gets framed for a crime he didn't do, problem is, the evidence was pretty damning. So much so that even Joe thought he did it. So he goes to Iron Heights where Len and Mick are currently holed up. Though Mick doesn't recognize him at first, he picks him up like a kitten on the streets, takes care of him inside. Len is amused by the whole situation, but seeing Barry locked up- not the Flash- and unable to use his powers... it doesn't sit well with him. That's how Captain Cold and Heatwave sort of adopted the Flash. Good thing they both have some serious connections inside the prison.Meanwhile, Barry gets some more insight into the actual lives of the criminals, sees that they aren't just the hardened persona's they put on. And damnit, he might find himself trusting them.





	1. Doc Allen's Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes to keep in mind: This takes place after Season 2 of Legends and Season 3 of Flash, so be prepared for spoilers. It's also a fix-it of sorts because Len is alive again- after some crafting and putting Len back together after being shattered in different time streams. Len also has Low Latent Inhibition in this story, which he had before the Oculus, but the Oculus has made it even worse. This being said, I do not have LLI, so I am doing my research on it so I can properly represent it in the story. If I get some things wrong, please let me know in the comments, but be aware that I am changing some things up do to the oculus' effects on Len.  
> Also, the rogues and team flash will be mentioned on and off, but I'm not sure who will show up in the actual story yet, so I'll tag as they appear. Another note, this is tagged as a mick/len/barry fic, but that has yet to be completely decided on how that relationship will actually go. It kind of depends on how the plot goes, so just a heads up!  
> Tags will be updated as the story goes on, so keep an eye on those.  
> Thanks everyone for reading!  
> Enjoy!  
> -Faye

When Len had come back from the whole dead thing, he and Mick had promptly decided the whole hero thing wasn't in the cards anymore. Not only was Mick not willing to let Len sacrifice himself for him anymore, but the younger rogue would be damned if he let Mick stay on that ship any longer with how much shit the others put his husband through. No way. It came down to Len punching their lights out a few times a day, icing them permanently, or leaving. Best choice seemed to be leaving- though it was a reluctant one on Len's part... he really wanted to ice someone.

Lisa was- understandably- ecstatic to have him back and promptly informed him of all the new goings on in Central. The Flash was missing and his little prodigy wasn't nearly as formidable. Lisa had taken control over the Rogues and done wonders with them- not that Len hadn't, but his sister looked good in the seat of power.

But not everything was all hunky-dory yet. Len and Mick were both still suffering from the effects of their Legend's missions- Mick remembering back to Chronos, and Len remembering back to the Oculus. Because they weren't fucked up enough.

So as they often do when they're bored or need a little more stability in their lives, they went on vacation. Vacation meaning they planned a job that went bad (on purpose) and got shipped straight to Iron Heights. Strange for two of Central Cities biggest criminals- read: supervillains now- to _want_  to go to prison, but it was familiar territory there. Prison has order, routine. Especially for Len, this meant calm and predictable. With the Oculus running rampant in his head still, shoving hundreds and hundreds of possibilities at him every time he lost control, he needed a little more stability. And Mick of course wasn't going to let him go in alone.

The guards weren't surprised to see them of course; most of them had been there for years and years, used to the two coming in and out of the place. Some even had an understanding with the two rogues that was mutually beneficial. For example, they always, _always_  got a cell together. Some rookies might claim unfairness, favoritism, but really it was in their own benefit because Mick could get wild and uncontrollable if Len wasn't there to keep him in check. Last time they'd dared to separate the two, Mick's cellmate was hospitalized in a day and a half- a record for him- and the next two didn't even last that long. It was then that they decided they would just automatically put the two together for preservation purposes. 

Len hadn't intended that to change this time around, and it didn't really. They'd been in the slammer for three weeks now and both of them were quite content. Not enough to stay indefinitely of course, but enough that their crazed minds were calm for once since the Waverider fucked them both over.

And then Barry Fucking Allen threw a chink in their lives again- Mick might not have noticed right away, but Len would recognize that stupid mop of hair a mile away. It didn't help that he stood out like a shovel in a pile of sewing needles, all thin and lanky with this wide eyed look on his face, shoved along in a line of bulky, tattoo covered men.

"Fishbait," Mick grunted from the bench that they sat on. Len had been reading a book when he said that and he looked up, just long enough to catch the faces, get the lay of the newbs and see which ones might be worth befriending and if he knew anyone. Sure enough, he knew one- third in line, tall as can be, and shuffling like the entire world was weighted on his shoulders. Barry Fucking Allen, in prison blues. Len's book snapped shut so fast that Mick tensed beside him, knowing something was wrong. "Boss?"

"The kid," Len said quietly, making sure no one could hear him over the cheering and catcalling of the growing crowd of inmates, no one but Mick that is. He nodded in Barry's direction and Mick's eyes found him like a hawk and a mouse. He could tell that Mick was trying to place the face, his memory wasn't all it used to be with so much time-travel shit shoved in his brain. Somethings just weren't important anymore, plus Mick was never good at recognizing faces. "I'll jog your memory," Len continued, "aliens."

It took a few more seconds but he could see the gears slide into place just as the kid disappeared into the booking offices where he'd go through getting all his new prison gear and his cell. Mick's arms were crossed, but he clenched his fists all the same and frowned, tilting his head in the way he did while processing information. "Thought he was missin'."

"Me too."

"The fuck's he doin' here? Ain't 'is dad a cop?" Mick questioned, earning a nod from Len. He couldn't match faces well, but he could read Len's like a fucking book, which is how he caught onto the tight press of lips and the narrowed eyes. Len was calculating, planning, but there was something else there, behind his ice blue eyes. It was new, but Mick was starting to pick up on it more and more, the soft glow of that familiar blue, the far off look he would get whenever the shit the Oculus left behind would activate in his head. No doubt he was watching every possibility flutter by in mere seconds. Mick leaned into him just a bit, shoulder pressed against shoulder, knee pressed against knee- not enough touching to draw them attention, but enough for Len to know that Mick was there, enough to be a comfort as Len tried to anchor himself again. 

He was quiet when he finally spoke again. "Kid's going to get himself killed in here. Most don't take well to cops or their families."

Mick nodded in agreement. "Not t' mention his powers. Kid's gotta have some side effects to it that the prison don't know 'bout," he said thoughtfully. He briefly remembered Haircut mentioning negative effects on speedsters during the invasion, but they'd been a little busy planning for aliens for him to pay much attention to it. "What's the plan, boss?"

Honestly, Len wasn't quite sure yet. As much as he hated playing hero, there was no way he could just it by and the Barry- the Flash- get killed in prison. He might hate to admit it, but he liked the kid. They had a fun game going on that he didn't want to see end. Not to mention this was no place for someone like him- heart as pure as gold.

Len remembered meeting Henry Allen very briefly back before he was Cold. He was good people, didn't deserve to be in Iron Heights and Len had never doubted the man's innocence. And now his son was here, with those stupid puppy eyes and hero complex... he wouldn't last a day without Len and Mick's protection.

"No one touches him," Len growled, and though it might have sounded like a threat to anyone else, Mick knew what he meant. Barry Allen was theirs to protect now and damn anyone who got in the way. Now he just had to figure out exactly why he was here, did his little army of nerds know? Did they send him here knowing he could still use his powers? There were too many holes in the story, too many problems that could arise, too many- a squeeze on his knee brought Len back, eyes flickering over to Mick's for a second before taking a deep breath and letting it go. He nodded to his partner before slowly standing. "We need more information."

Mick was quick to follow suit, trailing  behind him like a loyal little duckling. "Guards or inmates?"

Len chewed on his lip as he thought. "I'll talk to the guards, see what I can get. You keep an eye on the others, no doubt they saw him walking around. He's bound to draw attention. The second he's out here, I want you on him. No one touches him." Mick nodded, not asking questions, and split off to head towards the basketball court in the center of the yard- best vantage point to see all around, best place to gossip, and with a straight view of the doors the kid would be coming out of.

Making his way towards one of the guards he knew, he turned and leaned his side against the fence. "Hey, Moroski, got a question for you."

"Fuck off Snart," the man said, though he didn't move from his position- good news.

"They just brought in a bunch of fish," Len continued, nodding in the direction the bus had come from. "I see Doc Allen's kid in there?"

Moroski snorted for a second, meaning he was putting on a show for another guard nearby, but his body tilted slightly in Len's direction. "Sure was, heard he's in for murder, open and shut case, evidence was all there," Moroski told him, though his eyes narrowed a bit, "but if you ask me? Kid doesn't have a violent bone in his body. He's going to be eaten alive in here."

Len couldn't help but agree. Moroski had been with Iron Heights for just over 30 years; he'd seen all kinds of criminals come in those gates and more often or not could make a pin on what kind of person they were. He was always the first one Len would get info from if he had the chance because the man's first impressions were almost always spot on- Len often thought he was a profiler in another life.

"Why ya asking, Snart? Mick leaving ya dry?"

The rogue rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Let's just say I've go a soft spot for a pair of pretty green eyes and Mick likes to share." He thought for a few more seconds before turning to fully face the older man. "How's my chances of switching up some cells, Harvey?" He questioned, putting his drawl into his words as another guard passed them by. He didn't need the entire prison guard knowing he was friendly on occasion.

Moroski raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You leavin' Rory for the kid? Not like you Snart. Plus, you know we keep you two together for a reason, hell, you practically demand it."

He nodded in agreement, secretly hoping that Mick wouldn't be completely pissed off that he was making this choice right now without him. But Len hadn't gone through all that trouble of stopping Barry from killing a giant shark, to let him rot away in prison. Seriously, the city needed it's Flash, even if Len was usually the one going against him. "You said it yourself, Harv, kid's not going to last a day in here. Mick and me, we know him from the outside, he's a good kid. Not saying you separate us, just move us around a bit. Move Gorsi over to another cell, stick Mick in with the kid, I can handle whoever you put with me."

"You want Mick in there with him? Thought you said you wanted to keep him alive-"

"Never said that, but you won't have to worry about Mick. Like I said, we know the kid, and if you keep me close enough, I can keep Mick calm without you all getting your little panties in a twist." There was a long silence as the guard thought for a while about it. It was fine, Len had plenty of time. Even if the kid wasn't in their cell to start with, they had the rest of the day to bribe some guards and push some favors if Moroski didn't agree.

Finally though, the old man gave in, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Damnit, Snart... fine, I'll see what I can do, only because if there's anyone in this goddamn place that can keep an eye on him, it'd be you. I knew his dad... Doc Allen was a good guy, didn't belong here, and I doubt his kid does either. Maybe if he's lucky, he won't be here long."

Len nodded. "Hopefully not. I'll have Lisa drop off some of those cigars Hariette loves so much in thanks."

"Right," Moroski groaned, rolling his eyes. "You two need to stop giving my wife those things. Honestly, it's making her cheer for your side anytime you're on tv. She's even got a Captain Cold t-shirt you know."

"Well, bring it in sometime, I'll sign it for her," he said with a wink before stalking off towards Mick. His husband was standing just off the court, doing a great job of looking intimidating and dumb, though Len knew he was keeping a close eye on everything around him. Len sidled up beside him quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched the game before them. The Oculus pushed at the back of his mind, trying to show him the possible moves that could be taken, the way the ball might bounce or if it'll go in the hoop or not. He clenched his jaw and spoke quietly so Mick would be the only one to hear. "Got a job for you, Mick."

Mick grunted beside him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Me? You only say that if I'm not gonna like it."

"Like it or not, it's the best option right now," Len told him, knowing that even if Mick didn't like it, he'd do it anyway because Len asked. "Talked to Moroski, he's going to try shifting some cells around," he began, feeling Mick tense beside him- Mick wasn't dumb, he knew what Len was getting at. "I want you in there with the kid."

That must not have been what he was expecting because Mick ticked his head to the side and frowned. Had they been alone, he'd be gaping at him like a fish, but they had appearances to maintain. "Me? Figured you'd want to be in there with him."

"You almost killed your last cellie," Len said with a roll of the eyes. "I can't take the chance that you lose control and with Barry's... extra curricular activities, I trust he can handle you well enough. I doubt you'd be able to hurt him much." Len shrugged and leaned against the bleachers beside them. "I'll still be in the cell next to yours, so if you need me, I'll be there." Though he made it sound one sided, they both knew the truth behind those words. They both needed each other as much as the other and while separating them was risky, leaving the Flash- and a CSI- alone in a prison cell with god knows who, was even riskier. Len might be playing it off as some sort of 'protecting my assets' type play, but Mick knew him and he'd always had a soft spot for the hero.

"I'm not just worried about me, Snart," Mick said quietly. "You got issues to deal with too."

"We'll handle that when we get there," Len said, though there was an uncertainty pooling in his stomach. He knew Moroski wouldn't saddle him up with someone he couldn't handle, but he also didn't trust anyone in this prison worth spit.

An hour later, the fish were led out into the yard and set free. Barry- as expected- drew a lot of attention, and he knew it. He tried to puff out his chest a bit, set his mouth in a thin line to show he wasn't scared, but the twitching of his fingers told Len that he was no doubt nervous. As he should be too. He relied to much on his speed and being here, without his precious suit, he couldn't risk his identity to protect himself. 

Len kept himself hidden behind Mick's massive body, away from the speedster's view, and used the time to watch the others in the yard. There was no doubt most of them were debating on how to make him theirs. Though he wasn't necessarily Len's type, he'd admit the kid was something to look at. He was pretty, and that was a dangerous thing to be in a place like Iron Heights. While a lot of the guards were wrapped around Len's fingers, that also meant that most of them were dirty. A lot of bad shit happened around the heights that wasn't caught on camera or reported.

He wasn't going to let Barry be one of those things.

"Boss?" Mick asked, waiting for their next move.

Possibilities fluttered through Len's mind like a migration of birds, loud and thick and pulsing. He closed his eyes for just a moment, knowing they were probably glowing and he didn't need anyone to know about that. 

One steady breath. Two. Three.

 "Let's go say hi, Mick."


	2. Fishbait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry somehow finds himself under the protection of his worst-best?- villains. Meanwhile, Mick and Len try to figure out just why he's there in the first place.

Barry had almost made it all the way to his new cell- cell... gods he was really in prison... guess it runs in the family- before he was stopped by another guard. He was an older man with the name Moroski on his badge and he looked at Barry with one of pity and understanding before turning a more stern look on the younger guard that had been leading him, Officer Keith. He was in the back of the line by the time they'd started leading them off to different sections of the prison, so it didn't hold anything up, though it was needless to say Barry was nervous at being stopped already.

"Change of plans," Moroski told the guard, gesturing to the stairs on their right. "Allen's going in 31D."

Keith frowned and tilted his head in the direction. "Isn't that-"

"Yup," the old man answered. "Ice Princess is moving one cell over so the kid's going to be taking his place."

Barry had no idea what that meant for him, but by the way Keith tensed up, it wasn't good. He fought the urge to run, knowing he'd be able to escape if he really wanted to, but instead he fiddled with the pillow and the clothes in his hands. "Seriously? Who's got it out for him? We stick him in there, he won't last a fucking day," Keith argued, not even bothered that Barry was standing right there. 

Moroski shrugged. "They asked for it, probably having some lovers spout for all I know. I don't ask questions, it's best to do what they ask when it comes to their cells, you know that. Let the kid drop his stuff off, I'll send the princess up to get his shit later."

Keith must have agreed because he nodded and turned Barry around, leading him towards the other side of the room. He did a great job in his opinion of ignoring the catcalling and cajoling he received on the way towards what was going to become his new home. The guard near him managed to keep him far enough away from any grabbing hands and he came to stop before a room that looked like all the others. There were no personal effects in the room, but the top bunk was messy whereas the bottom was perfectly made. "Open on 31!" Keith called out.

There was a loud beep and the gate clanked, sliding open much too slowly for Barry's liking. When it was fully open, he was nudged into the room. Keith nodded to a chair in the corner and grunted. "Put your stuff there. You'll probably get the bottom bunk, but best to let him move out before touching any of his shit, he's territorial."

Barry swallowed and dropped off his things. "Should I be worried?" He questioned.

"Oh yeah, I would be."

Barry tensed, but nodded grimly. He wouldn't be able to use his powers to protect himself, so he was even more worried. Hopefully he would be smart enough to make it through until someone proved him innocent. Though judging how that went with his dad... Barry wasn't too hopeful. Luckily, he was used to being imprisoned considering he'd just escaped the speed force a few weeks ago. He was silent as he was led out of the cell again and out to the yard. Keith put a hand on his shoulder as they stepped outside, a pitiful look on his eyes as he scanned the open space. "Good luck, kid. You're goin' to need it." And then he was gone.

Barry had never been so scared in his life, even fighting Savitaar... At least he had his powers then, but now he was helpless. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful that the others hadn't insisted on putting him in the metahuman wing, or frustrated. At least they trusted him enough not to out him like that.

The second he was outside though, he felt instantly naked. Nearly every pair of eyes were on him, boring through him like Kara's heat vision. It made his skin crawl and he had to remind himself that he probably- hopefully- wouldn't be there long, just until Wally and Iris could figure out who the real killer was... 

He had to show them that he wouldn't be intimidated, while at the same time not appear as a threat. Do as his dad did and lay low, don't cause trouble, and he should be fine- except Barry helped put half of these criminals away. He wondered if any of them would recognize him, would know exactly who he was and who they could hurt by killing him.

So he raised his chin and took a deep breath. If he could stay calm, he'd be fine, though he could feel his hands twitching at his sides.

Barry barely made it a few steps into the yard before a shadow swallowed him up, a massive shadow that blocked out the entire sun. A hand settled on the back of his neck and Barry tensed up immediately, his fists clenching and speedforce humming through his veins, telling him to run and run and run-

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," a deep, familiar, voice told him. "They throw you in the meta-wing, yer dead meat."

"Heatwave?" The speedster gaped, turning on his heel to stare up at the man. His eyes widened at the sight of him and for a second he couldn't decide if he should be terrified or relieved. On the one hand, Mick was a Legend and sort of reformed bad guy so maybe he'd help Barry out. On the other... Mick was a loose cannon when Snart wasn't around so he probably shouldn't place all his bets on him. "I-I thought you were with Sara and the others?"

Mick shrugged, "got out."

It was short and simple, but the younger man could see that there was a story behind his eyes, one he wouldn't be getting. "I-I... should I be worried, being in here with you?"

"Should be askin' you that, red," Mick said with a roll of his eyes. He pulled his hand away from Barry's neck and crossed his arms, watching the kid's shoulders relax a bit. "This is the last place we expected t' see ya."

Confusion licked at his mind and Barry tilted his head a bit. "We?"

As if on cue- actually, probably exactly on cue considering how much of a fucking drama queen the man was- Cold stepped out from behind Mick, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He was no doubt loving the shock that ran through Barry's system, the way his eyes widened, the way his hands seemed to reach towards him only to recoil a bit. "Scarlet," he greeted in a low purr, soft enough that no one around them could hear. "We thought you were missing."

It took a few seconds for his brain to reboot and Barry swallowed. "I-I thought you were dead," he countered.

"Hmm, news of my death was greatly exaggerated. Mick and I thought we deserved a little vacation after so much... _travelling_ ," he drawled, looking down at his nails as if bored. "A good ole stint in Iron Heights does us good every once in a while, but you-" his eyes zeroed in on Barry with a hint of suspicion and curiosity as he pointed a long finger at him, "you don't belong here at all. So tell me, what's a hero like you, doing in a place like this?"

Swallowing, Barry forced himself to cross his arms and glare right back at Snart. If he could get his head in gear and act like he always did with the man, maybe they could broker some kind of deal, Cold always loved his deals. "Doubt that's any of your business, Cold."

Mick snorted but let Snart continue. "So you're not here on a job then," he confirmed. "And you're here without the suit, meaning you can't use your powers, don't want your identity getting around, now do you?"

Barry frowned at the way he said that, something in his head sliding into place, something the guards had said earlier. "Oh," he muttered, eyes widening between the two. "You're the one who got my room changed? The hot head and the ice princess?"

"Ugh," Snart groaned, but Mick just threw his head back and laughed, slapping his partner on the back at that. "They'll never live that down," he muttered. "Yeah, we got you moved in with Mick. Can't have you going around getting yourself killed in here, and you will without our help."

"And what do you get out of it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I doubt you're doing it out of the goodness of your frozen heart, as you keep trying to convince me you don't have one."

Cold shrugged and glanced around the prison yard, glaring at anyone who looked too long at the speedster. "We'll just say I'm protecting my assets. Can't have my favorite hero dying before I get a chance to escape, now can I? I doubt our little deal will migrate over to your little kid prodigy." The guilty look that slid into Barry's features was enough to confirm that fact and Snart hummed, tapping his fingers in a rhythm on his arm. "Then you stick with us. You need protection, I need you not to die. Consider it a favor."

He didn't really have a reason to argue, Barry realized quickly as he took a glance around him. Honestly- and ironically- his personal supervillain and arch nemesis was probably his safest ally in a place like this. No way anyone else in the prison would protect him like Snart would without wanting something in return- something Barry wasn't sure he'd be willing to give.

"Okay," he said softly, but judging by the cheshire grin that spread over Snart's face, he heard him loud and clear.

"Wonderful," a loud voice on the speaker interrupted whatever he was about to say, announcing their free time over and for everyone to make their way towards the mess hall for dinner. "Well, looks like playtime is over," Snart said, shrugging his shoulders. He took up one of Barry's sides and Mick took the other, slinging an arm over the speedster's skinny shoulders as they led him towards the prison doors. "Stick with us, Barry, and you'll be just fine."

 

Barry wasn't sure he'd be just fine after all. They'd managed to make it all the way through the dinner line where some angry looking middle-aged man dropped some grey slop onto his tray, and into a table in one of the corners of the room before any trouble went down. Snart and Rory took either side of him again, forcing Barry to sit with his back to the corner- no doubt so he wouldn't be able to get out if they decided to literally corner him. Two others sat across from them and were quickly introduced as Yoyo and Toast- though why those nicknames, Barry didn't find out. They didn't look like much, and Barry didn't recognize them from any police files, so they were no doubt just lackeys, not actually important to the rogues, but loyal enough. They didn't stay at the table long before Mick shooed them off and Snart started talking.

"So tell us, Barry," he drawled as he picked up something that might have been a greenbean on his fork, "who pinned murder on you?"

"I thought you weren't supposed to ask people why they're here," the speedster said after swallowing a mouthful of mush- it wasn't tasty by any means, but it was at least better than cisco's calorie bars. "Isn't that like, prison 101?"

The older man shrugged and bit into his bean. "Maybe, but I do love breaking the rules. Figured your cop dad would have gotten you out as soon as possible, before you even made it into the cuffs. Not to mention you've got a team of brains and a pretty little reporter up your sleeve, they couldn't find one little flaw in this so called open and shut case?" He raised an eyebrow, watching as Barry kind of shrunk in on himself and looked down at his food. "Unless they agree with the sentence," he said carefully. Barry tried not to flinch at the tone, but he didn't succeed as both rogues tilted their heads in curiosity. "Even your fiance thinks you're guilty?"

He flushed a bright red and shrugged, wondering how much he should tell them, if anything at all. 

If he knew Cold, he'd get the information somehow, whether that be from cajoling it out of Barry or having Lisa track down Cisco into some answers. Might as well tell him something.

"There was nothing they could do," he told them with a shrug, keeping his eyes down in hopes of them not prodding too much. There was still a sting in his chest when he thought about the look on Joe's face when they'd slapped the cuffs on him, the betrayal in his eyes. He'd hoped Joe of all people would fight for him, would believe him, but it was like his dad all over again. Joe couldn't argue with evidence no matter how much he wanted to. "The evidence was damning, Joe couldn't do anything about it."

It was Mick who spoke this time, voice barely a grunt but rolling through Barry like a shockwave. "Fuck that."

"Mick-"

"No," he continued with a shake of his head, ignoring Snart's protest. "I've seen that look 'fore, Lenny, they abandoned him." Barry opened his mouth to argue, because that's not really what happened, but Mick's glare shut him up quick. "They did, didn't they. Did any of them offer to help? You got a kid who fucking makes portals on your team for gods sake, he could break you out in a second. Which means they think you did it."

He frowned and shook his head, wanting to argue, to point out that Mick was wrong... but was he? Wally and Iris had at least told him they would get to the bottom of things, figure out who really did it. Even if Iris was... even if they weren't together anymore, she seemed to still trust him and Wally was his brother, he was his mentor. That seemed to count for something. But neither were too confident in their skills to dig deep and find out the truth. Caitlin was still missing, hadn't bothered calling once since he got back, if she even knows he's back. Cisco, though they had made friends again, didn't have any problem really with Barry once the evidence began piling up, not after what happened with Dante. And Joe... well he wouldn't even talk to Barry.

"Exactly," Mick said, crossing his arms over his chest as if proud of himself- though his face was grim and closed off.

"What do you care if they believe me or not," he finally asked, pushing his food around on his plate. He should eat it, should eat all of it and go back for seconds even if he wasn't allowed because he knew if he didn't, he'd be getting a lecture from Cait- from the medical staff on how they hadn't been told about his hypoglycemia. Problem was he just wasn't hungry. "I'm locked up in here, so the moment you guys break out, because no doubt you will, Central is yours."

The other two were silent for a while, but Snart sighed dramatically at him and shook his head. "You just don't get it kid. You don't belong in here. That's the point."

And he was right, he didn't get it. As far as Barry was concerned, he was just being punished more for all the shit he's done. The speedforce wasn't enough, which was why he didn't run away the second he thought he could. Maybe he did belong here.


	3. Broken Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len and Mick discuss their speedster. Barry has been hiding something from them that could be dangerous.

Rooming with the kid wasn't actually that bad, as Mick quickly found out in the first few days of him being there. He respected Mick's stuff and kept out of is way. He followed routine and didn't talk much, which was definitely a plus though could be worrying. He remembered the kid being more excitable when they were out and about in Central. But Mick didn't push him to talk, didn't want to and the kid didn't seem to have the need to talk anyway. It was like having Lenny around only without the... well the Lenny. Plus Len didn't have the speed. Barry was careful to only use it at night when the lights were out, and to go slow enough to not create any sparks, but Mick still caught him a few times- flipping through books too fast, changing fast enough that Mick didn't catch any skin even if he had been looking, which he hadn't to be clear.

"Well?" Len had asked him three days in, after they'd all split off to their work posts. Allen- lucky bastard- got posted in the library as he had quite the brain, whereas Mick and Len were usually on lawn or laundry duty.

Mick shrugged, shoving his armload of dirty clothes into the industrial washer. "Kid's a mess," he said simply, though he knew by the look on his partner's face that it wasn't enough. "Barely says a damn word, has nightmares every night. Hasn't had a damn visitor since he got here... s'not right."

"Nightmares?"

Mick nodded as he started up the machine, having to kick it with his boot to get it chugging on. "Doesn't scream like some bastards... barely makes a peep, but I can tell." Len raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate and Mick grunted, moving onto the next load. "He gets a little hitch in his breathing, like 'e wants to scream but knows 'e can't." Mick was a heavy sleeper when he was with Len, but anyone else and he slept on the brink of unconsciousness, senses still reaching out and processing new information. It'd been trained into him long ago when he and Len had been on the run from the families and the cops every day. They'd learned to keep an ear out for any new sound. Barry's even breathing hitching into a silent sob was like a bullet through the silence to Mick and it woke him up every time. "Never says anythin' though, just turns back over and doesn't go back t' sleep."

Len hummed in that way he always did when something was bothering him but he wasn't comfortable saying it in public. He busied himself with folding the various sized shirts and pants, stacking them into piles by sizes, refolding them when he wasn't satisfied with the first try. 

Mick was used to it by now. Lenny had some mild OCD that helped him cope with different shit and it flared up a bit after the Oculus like the rest of their fucked up brains had. He knew better than to  comment about it though, knew Len would come to him if he was struggling.

"Lisa got any news on who's tryin' t' set him up?" Mick questioned, dropping his freshly dried clothes in Len's depleting pile.

"No," he replied with a small frown. "Hartley got into the CCPD files and said it's all open shut like they said, everything points to the kid, like a big shiny red arrow. It's squeaky clean." 

Which meant it was definitely a set up, and how the kid's family was just letting it happen was shocking to Mick. Then again, from what they'd heard, the kid's foster cop was the one who threw his real dad in jail, so who's to say.

Mick could tell Len was getting far more attached to the kid than he had planned, knew the second he saw him getting off that bus that his husband's momma-bird tendencies would flare to life, just as his own did. Mick didn't like bullies, and he and Len seemed to flock towards little broken things that needed help. They both came from shit backgrounds and shit families, so they'd learned to build their own. It started with the three of them: Len, Lisa and Mick. Then they built it up even more with the Rogues. They could see the hurt in Hartley's eyes at being turned away for who he might love, not to mention his hearing problems now- Mick had secretly learned sign language to make him feel more comfortable in their group. The broad, Shawna, wasn't around much for the jobs, but she enjoyed their company enough and always helped out when one of them was hurt. Mick had no problem tracking down guys she claimed harassed her at work or on the way home. Mardon had temper problems like himself, Trickster Jr. was just plain crazy, and the mirror bloke was a pain in the ass, but they all fit together in this weird shitty, villain breakfast club. 

So it wasn't a shock to him when Len had wanted to protect the kid. One look at him and you'd know he needed it.

Problem was getting the kid to trust them, to open up enough so they could help. He was one of those types though that required equal openness and that wasn't something Len was willing to do right away. And Mick didn't know how. So they'd do what they did best for now, intimidate the others to stay away and keep the kid alive.

Easier said than done it would seem.

The second they'd gotten back to their cells for the night, the kid was... leaning.

"Red?" Mick questioned, uncertain. The kid turned to him, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying real hard to remember something, and he raised a hand to steady himself, only to miss the bed entirely, pitching towards Mick like a sack of potatoes. "Shit, kid-" Mick cursed. The weight wasn't the problem, well maybe it was. He wasn't heavy by any means, in fact Mick was pretty sure he was too light. And he'd know. After taking on a gaggle of new psudo-children who ate like shit, he'd started feeding them healthy, home cooked meals because Mick was a damn good cook when he wanted to be. Hartley had gained nearly ten pounds of fat on him by the time Mick was satisfied he couldn't count every rib. 

And Barry, he was all bones and skin.

"Mick?" Len called out from the front of their cells, his tone bored but the word itself concerned. "All good?"

"Peachy," he grunted in reply, knowing the word meant exactly the opposite to Len. He didn't have much time to worry about it though because the kid was starting to wake up, and fast. He brought his hands up to press against Mick's chest,  tapping it in confusion for a moment before blinking open his eyes. The second he figured out where he was- who he was up against- his face flushed as red as that silly nickname Lenny had given him and he was taking a few shakey steps backwards. "Woah," Mick rumbled, keeping his hands on the kid's shoulders to steady him as his body threatened to give out again. "You're not lookin' so hot kid... What's up?"

Red shook his head and frowned, rubbing at his stomach as if he was trying to will it to stop aching.

Was that it? Was the kid just hungry?

Mick tried to remember back to all their meals. Barry had definitely eaten everything on his plate, even finished off Mick and Len's plates when they gave him the option, so there was no way he was starving.

"Mick," Len said again, drawling out the word in annoyance. He didn't like being kept out of the loop.

Lucky for them, Len hadn't been saddled with a new roomie yet, so Mick sat the kid on the bed and made his way towards the bars. He could see Len's arms sticking out of his side, so he was leaning on them. Mick turned his back to the door and leaned against it so he could keep an eye on the kid. "Kid passed out. Won't tell me what's wrong."

Barry looked up at him when he said that, green eyes widening and a guilty look covering his face. "I'm fine, just- just..."

"Just trying to come up with a good lie?" Len supplied from his cell, scoffing slightly. "I can hear the lie in your voice, Scarlet. You're terrible at it. What's wrong?"

He was quiet for too long and Mick started getting twitchy. He liked the silence, sure, but worried and uncomfortable silence were not his cup of tea. He could hear Len tapping his fingers along the bars, rhythms of comfortable songs long ago listened to. Finally- after way too long- the kid finally spoke, though his voice was barely over a whisper. 

"Hypoglycemia."

Mick had heard the word before, knew it related to some sort of medical problem, but the actual symptoms were at a loss to him. He was more mechanical smart than doctor smart. Len though must have known because he was cursing up a quiet storm next door. Barry flinched at the anger, curling in on himself just enough for Mick to notice. 

_'Calm down'_  he tapped on the bars, making it look absentminded, but knowing Len would pick up on the morse code instantly. ' _You're freaking him out.'_

A moment later, Len took a deep breath and he released it. Mick wondered if his eyes were flickering or not, if the Oculus was trying to show him everything that might happen if Barry was to keel over from whatever it was he had. 

"Shouldn't your... medicine negate that?" Len asked, carefully catching himself from saying powers.

"No, they're the reason I have it," Barry said with a shrug, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. Mick had picked it up as a nervous habit, something to do with his hands because the kid never seemed to be able to sit still. "Because of the uh... the medicine, my body burns through calories too fast whether I'm ru- taking it or not. I have to eat at least 10,000 calories a day if I want to take my meds." Mick had to hand it to the kid, while it was obvious they were all talking in code, no one would be able to figure out what the hell they were actually talking about. He picked it up fast. "I haven't been eating enough, makes my blood sugar low and I pass out easily. Was a pretty big problem when I first started out."

Mick grunted, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "Should've told us. You tell the doc'n she can get you special permissions fer food," he told the speedster. Barry shrugged and Mick grunted with a shake of the head. "Need your strength in a place like this, not goin' t' have us t' protect you all the time."

"Badge!" Len called out suddenly, pulling groans and curses from people around them. He ignored the sleeping inmates and called out again. The kid flinched, but it was obvious he was too exhausted and weak to do anything about it.

A few minutes later, a guard came strutting down the path, stopping at the bars the thief was looking out of. "What'd'you want, Snart?"

"Kid needs the doc," he said simply, jutting his head towards where Mick was now leaning against his own bar. "Passed out when he came in, he had hypoglyemia and isn't getting enough to eat."

The badge took a few steps back to look around Mick, shining his light in the room and straight at the kid's face. He flinched, but he was pale and his eyes could barely stay open.  He was glaring at Mick now, no doubt angry that they'd drawn extra attention to him. The guard led Barry out of the cell though and disapeared down the hallway before the kid could really argue against it.

"Kid's fallin' apart," Mick growled, leaning forward on the bars of the cell so his arms were sticking out. Mick could tell what was happening, knew what the kid was doing. He was self-destructing, even if he didn't know it yet. Too afraid to ask for help because it might make him look weak, too afraid to further prove the negative things people are saying about him. And the look in the kid's eyes... it wasn't a question that the kid obviously blamed himself for something, even might think he belonged in the prison.

Len hummed an affirmative and tapped his fingers on the bar again. "He's got no support system, no visitors. He's not going to make it in here if it continues like that."

"We takin' him with us?" Mick questioned, knowing that the plan was to break out whenever they felt close enough to normal again. At the rate they had been going at- before the kid- Mick suspected they'd be out in another week, maybe two. Len had been doing a lot better with his episodes so he'd started planning their escape already. But the pyro knew that Barry Allen had thrown a wrench into his recovery. Or at least slowed down the plan because there was no way either of them wanted to just leave him in here with no protection. Either the kid wouldn't be able to make it, or he'd use his powers to get away and the identity of the Flash would be revealed and tarnished. Neither were good options, so even without Len answering, Mick knew that was their last resort, no doubt his husband wanted to solve this thing first. "What's the chance we can get Lisa to talk to her nerd? Try an' get more information?"

"I'll talk to her."

And that was that.

Mick was back in bed and reading a book by the time Barry came back an hour and a half later. He was still quiet, but he looked much better and wasn't slouching as much as he was earlier, so that was a good sign at least. "Feelin' better?"

The kid tensed for a second before laying down on the bottom bunk. "Yeah, the doctor's pretty nice actually. She had to run some blood tests for proof, but she said she'll make sure I get what I need." Barry didn't elaborate on that much, but Mick got the idea it was probably going to be a daily trip to the infirmary. The Doc was a nice gal, smart too. She probably knew it was a bad idea that Barry just get extra food in line. Any special treatment in a place like this was a big target on your back. If Len wasn't top of the totem pole already, no doubt people would be all over him for his 'kosher' meals. Mick was back reading his book- or staring at it really because he was too focused on listening to Len's cell beside him and Barry's breathing below him to really focus- when the kid spoke up again. "Thanks," he muttered quietly, "for uh... doing that. You didn't need to."

"Can't have you passin' out all the time, Red," Mick answered, skipping back to the top of his page to try and read it again before just giving up on the book all together. He slid it under his pillow and folded his hands behind his head, rolling words around before addressing the speedster. "You need help in here, you ask for it. Don't be hidin' things like that from me 'n Lenny, got it?" When the speedster didn't answer, Mick leaned over the edge of his bed to glare at the kid's wide eyed look. "When we said we'd protect ya, we meant it. That means from yourself. Got it?"

Barry swallowed hard, adams apple bobbing, and he bit the inside of his cheek. "I-" he paused, backtracking before heaving a sigh and nodding. "Alright... I got it."

"Good. Now, anything we need to know medical wise that can get you in trouble?"

"No," Barry answered with a shake of his head. "I uh... I heal really fast and I can't get sick. But that's about it."

Mick rolled onto his back again and nodded. It was a start at least, getting the kid to open up a bit, getting him to answer questions. He figured they could keep the kid from completely falling apart if they could find the right way to handle him, the right way to help. Like when he learned ASL for the Piper, or when he takes Lisa skating. They just needed to figure out what kind of duct tape would hold together the pieces of the Flash that were falling off.

And it started with his team.


End file.
